


Please

by fuckingbrianaman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Lots and lots of pouting, M/M, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingbrianaman/pseuds/fuckingbrianaman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if we ended up on the cover of the next Witch Weekly? I can see the headlines now; 'Gay Couple Comes Out at the Wedding of The Boy Who Lived'. Sounds fantastic."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please

“Dean, will you just hold my bloody hand?” Seamus was pouting like a child across the small table, ignoring the fish on his plate and the champagne in his flute.

“I’m scared, to be honest,” said Dean. He knew he sounded nothing remotely close to honest, but his patience was wearing thin.”Terrified, even. You know good and well that I’d rather we  _stay_ a _secret_.”

Seamus shook his head in exasperation. “And you know that I can’t keep anything a secret to save my life. _Please_ , Dean, it’s just our friends.” He paused. “And their families. And a few reporters. But come on! It’s a bloody wedding, for Merlin’s sake! What better time to tell everyone than at a wedding? Everyone’s shnockerd on champagne and happiness. Hell, even _Neville_ was flirting!”

Seamus’ attempts to appeal to Dean’s inner romantic might have worked if he hadn’t been so loud. Dean shushed him emphatically. “Need I remind you that this isn’t just any wedding? I used to go with the bride, the groom saved the entire wizarding world, and there are more than just ‘a few’ reporters.” Dean ticked off each statement on his fingers, feeling the nearly evil aura of the horde of women with Quick Quotes quills and men with old cameras who were slowly making their way through the tables. “Look, you know how I feel about you; why should everyone else?”

“Because,” said Seamus with hyperbolized exasperation, “I want to be able to brag about you whenever Ginny starts talking about Harry, or when Ron gets going about Hermione. I want to rub it in their faces that I’m the one who got you.” He frowned at Dean, an expression reminiscent of that of a kicked crup. “You know I like bragging.”

The slow violin music floated above their heads, twirling lazily. Perhaps he just thought of it that way because of Luna’s strange dance technique, which she felt the need to demonstrate at any social gathering, which he was watching because it was easier to get distracted by things like that than face Seamus, who was looking at him forcefully. Dean made a noise in the back of his mouth.

“Shay,” he whispered as he looked down at their hands, lying mere inches from one another on the tabletop, “This isn’t easy for me. It doesn’t help one bit that your mom hates my guts –”

“She’s just a racist old hag –”

“I know,” Dean said, cutting him off, “but that doesn’t make it easier. She can’t stand that you’re friends with me; she’d probably disown you if she knew you were… You know…”

“Shagging you?”

“Blunt, but yes. I don’t want to make this hard on you. Or, rather, harder than it is already.”

“Then kiss me.”

Dean looked didn’t look up, but he smiled ruefully at his knuckles. “I do. All the time.”

“No, I mean now. Here. Stand up and snog the fire out of me and give that uptight wench a show.”

Dean laughed in spite of himself, and he could feel his resolve giving way. He met Seamus’ gaze for a moment before hiding his face again. “What if we ended up on the cover of the next _Witch Weekly_? I can see the headlines now; ‘Gay Couple Comes Out at the Wedding of The Boy Who Lived’. Sounds fantastic.”

Seamus pouted, something he’d been doing far too much of this evening. “Please, Dean, let me show you off.”

Dean, instead of looking at his partner, watched Harry and Ginny dancing. She was lovely in her floor-length white wedding gown, and Harry’s suit (they had opted for a Muggle-style wedding, much to the poorly hidden joy of Mr. Weasley) seemed to be of the finest make. He smiled at her with his eyes, promising her everything she could dream of and more. Dean felt the craving for that claw at his throat; he wanted so badly to be public, to just tell the world how much he loved Seamus, how much the Irishman made his heart swell and his every footstep lighter than air. The image of the two of them dancing alongside Harry and Ginny flashed, unbidden, in his mind, and the words came out before he processed them.

“Alright, but we do this my way.”

“Come on, Dean, I just want – wait, what?”

“We can come out, but I get to choose how.” Dean finally looked into Seamus’ eyes. The excitement he saw enforced his decision. “Today.”

The other man squealed and clapped his hands, bouncing up and down in his seat. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, you are amazing and wonderful and The Best, thank you!”

“Stop being such a girl,” scolded Dean, but he knew the effect was ruined somewhat by his beaming smile.

“Bloody hell, I just wish I could kiss you right now! How’re you planning on doing it?” asked Seamus.

Dean peered around at all of the couples who were now dancing a slow waltz – Harry and Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna, Katie Bell and Cormac McLaggen, and Bill and Fleur. The golden tablecloths and floating candles transformed everything into an ethereal, cloud-like explosion of romanticism. It was perhaps the most beautiful room in which Dean had ever been.

“Come with me,” he whispered as he stood up and grabbed Seamus’ wrist. Through the swaying and spinning bodies he led them, attempting to attract as little attention as possible, until they were near Harry and Ginny. There he paused, giving Seamus a look he hoped said, _Stand there and look pretty._

Dean took a deep breath and called on the memory of the charcoal sketch of Seamus he had tucked into his suit pocket at that very moment. He remembered the day that picture had come into existence; Seamus, sprawled on the grass of the Muggle park, the sun hitting his face while he grinned up at the sky. That had been the day they had first exchanged I love yous.

With a pounding heart and a firm grip on Seamus’ wrist, Dean reached out and clasped Harry’s elbow. “Oi,” he began, and he felt the shorter and slighter body that he knew so well move closer to his to offer support.

Harry turned, not releasing Ginny though they were no longer stepping in time with the music. “Yeah?” Harry said, smiling in mild befuddlement.

Dean glanced at Seamus, and for a moment every doubt came back to him. Fear of Seamus’ possibly eminent disownment and estrangement from his family screamed from the forefront of his mind, jumping up and down and waving its hands, begging for attention.

But then Seamus smiled up at him reassuringly and Dean felt him shift his hand so their fingers were intertwined and they all disappeared in a haze of happiness.

 “We,” he said, still looking at Seamus, “have something we’d like to tell you…”

**Author's Note:**

> Revamped from my FF.N account.


End file.
